Tag Archive: life


Conflicted

I started to write a poem then shifted
to write a song

Chagall 2017

Cherita August 10, 2017

The bird on the holly bush

Low to the ground singing
to elders in alder branches

From your vantage, do you see hope?
Show me then, where to fly
Pray, please guide me

Chagall 2017

i return to my device and the word application asks
want to save? implying my previous work unsaved,
i reply Yes for i trust my earlier self enough
to have made some excellent changes

Chagall 2017

Cyan – A Cherita

I sometimes forget

who I am
supposed to be

until a prized wind
raises the scent of rain
off of mossy rock to me

©∞Chagall 2017

Please know that every cherita I will ever write
will be inspired by Celestine @ Reading Pleasure

Alas, so very few of my cheritae will ever be as good as hers. 🙂

Love & Peace —CC

Befell

What is there
after you’ve flown?

Where are you
once you touched down?

Careful there on the ledge,
perhaps you’ll not fly again.

How sad to have flown
for the last time.

When up is down
to fall is to fly.

How joyous to have
flown at all.

I’d have thought
clouds to be harder.

I invert when I fly
for I am the sky.

So inwardly
I fall.

Alight on soft pockets
of air.

Dust
on air.

I pray while
I fall.

The whole planet
is falling.

We spin and we turn and
we tilt and we yaw.

The earth rushes to us
once befallen.

© Chagall ∞

Communal Living

Every year around this time witnesses the return of
the cicada killer wasps: their sole purpose in life is
to fight, even to die, in the war against cicada.

They land their bodies on my hot pavers, the straight-away
between the porches is a landing field for sassy doughboys,
chewing gum, sun in their eyes, alive another day.

I get out the hose and assist them in training, parrying
with sprinkler and jet and soaker settings, preparing them for
aerial bug-fight, cicadas are fierce opponents
with an innate understanding of prime numbers.

I had a huge party this weekend and I gathered the cicada killer wasps
around and I told them it was the front of the house for the rest of the day
and they listened. That night while packing up the tent and the chairs
they came back and settled into their usual spot. The leader,
oddly one of the youngest, came over and said, “You miss everybody,
i can tell,” hovered a moment and then flew off to the shade of the boxwoods.

© Chagall ∞

The Ledge

Once in a landslide
I came to the edge
two steps away
from the fall

Carefully balanced
as if on trapeze
I prayed for
the crumble

To fall steady down
wind from anywhere

Anyone who cared could tell
I’d been asleep for a while

One final fingertip
scratches the ground
catching my breath
precedes free fall

then gravity

sinking, no water fills in the space
between me and the sky I float
down parting ways

Astride this time
unlike any I’ve ever ridden
must be the final wave

In crisp articulation
impressed on bottom sand

Running wild water angels

Awake in their trace
I lie down

© Chagall ∞

Ballad Her

People come and go
On and off, red tail lights
Sidle and yaw away

Round about this time
hover low over
things that I ought
to remember
but now…

People want to go
sometimes you know
then it’s time
to recall

That’s when breezes still

It’s been zephyr time
all the while

And I fall
silently awash in a rush
unlike any I’ve known

If only
fingertips

People will come and go,
after all life is here
for a while

To separate finely
to last

© Chagall ∞

Haiku for Acrosome

Perhaps we are all
Afloat in this universe
Pending gestation

© Chagall ∞

Someday – A Cherita

The crescendo of cicadas

Morning is hotter
than yesterday’s noon

A nonchalant wind imbued with the scent
of a distant ocean I’ll never see
blows by

(inspired by Celestine’s work at https://readinpleasure.wordpress.com/ )

© Chagall ∞

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